


Stand By You

by Crysania



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Past Abuse, past bad relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14520393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: He's found facedown on the side of the road with only a piece of paper in his hand. Her name and address, nothing more. She hasn't seen her childhood friend in some ten years, but Rey agrees to take him in when no one else will.





	Stand By You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jaidan Mosra (Myriai)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myriai/gifts).



> Written as part of the Reylo Fanfic Recs 'Rewrite the Stars Fest' for the prompt "You're holding on. Let go." For Jaidan Morsa.
> 
> Heavily influenced by Stand By You by Marlisa. You can here it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-2YqgIxoF8)

He’s been walking for days.

_One foot in front of the other._

_Keep moving._

_Don’t stop._

_Never stop._

It’s all he remembers, really. One town after another, sleeping under bridges, wrapped in the tattered remains of a long black coat to keep warm. His hair is long and his beard has grown. He’s unkempt.

 _It doesn’t matter_.

He slurs his words when he talks.

_He has no money._

_Where will you go?_

_Who will care?_

He contemplates just curling up and sleeping until he’s no more, until the world has swallowed him up. Just one more pathetic wretch gone.

 _No one would care_.

He has no one.

_Why would you have anyone? You’re worthless…_

He’s found passed out near the main highway in a town he’s never heard of. Some good Samaritan, driving by, sees him face down on the side of the road and stops. They’re worried that he’s dead. But he’s not. And so they call 911 and he’s taken to the nearest hospital.

He’s John Doe there. No identification. Incoherent with pain and rage, he strikes out at anyone who comes near. Anything he can grasp at is a weapon. Fists, chair, he almost head-butts someone.

_He won’t remember it._

_He’ll wake up and it will all be a nightmare._

Somehow they manage to subdue him. Saved, he’s sure, by the fact that he doesn’t “look like a terrorist.” No, he looks like a creature of the woods, a caveman, half-man half-animal.

 _You’re not human_.

The only clue to his identity is a piece of paper clutched tightly in one hand. When he’s finally subdued, hooked up to an IV for hydration and machines to monitor him, they get it out of his hand.

There’s a name. And an address. No other information. They don’t know who this person is, how she could be connected to him. But it matters not. It’s a clue. And so she’s called late one afternoon in the hopes of finding out just who the mystery man is. A picture is texted of his sleeping face.

He’s only half awake when she comes to him. His eyes can’t quite focus and he tries to speak but she makes a small noise and reaches out to put her finger on his lips.

“He’s considered dangerous,” the nurse says and tries to pull her away.

But she doesn’t move.

_She should._

_You_ are _dangerous._

_You’re not someone she should associate with._

“Ben?”

He realizes he never forgot how her voice sounded, that lilt that was all her own. It had always been there but when asked she’d always deny that there was anything _peculiar_ about her voice. He teased her mercilessly. But that’s what boys did. They teased the girls they…

He just barely chokes out her name, reaching out to grip her hand, before he feels himself dragged under.

* * *

He comes aware of a beeping noise first.

Then the sound of voices.

“He can go home this evening if you…”

“What about his family?”

“We haven’t been able to…”

He crawls his way back up to consciousness. _His family_.

_They hate you._

_They’d never want you back_.

“I can’t go back to them.” At least, he’s sure that’s what he says. But when he opens his eyes Rey is hovering over him and her eyes are blinking a little more rapidly than he would have expected. There’s moisture at the corner of her eye and he reaches up a hand to touch it.

She flinches.

He thinks she does at least. He sees her move back and he sighs, his hand dropping heavily to his side. It’s hard to hold up anyway. He doesn’t remember the last time he felt so weak.

“He can come home with me.” He’s surprised at how resolute she sounds. Was she ever so sure of herself? He remembers her as a scrawny teenager, just past childhood, half beaten down by the terrible foster home she was in, half feisty and vivacious, the kind of kid he _wished_ he had been.

How old was he the last time he saw her?

Twenty, maybe.

It’s been ten years and he wonders how much she could have changed. He can’t quite meet her eyes but he studies her nonetheless. She looks…strong.

“And you are?” one of the nurses asks.

“I’m…” He hates the way she hesitates. But what _is_ she to him, really? “…a friend,” she finally finishes with.

“I’ll go with her.”

One of the nurses leans forward and says something to the other, too soft for him to make sense of in his half-alert state.

He’ll go with her.

He has to.

She’s all that matters, really. The only lifeline he’s had as he wanders aimlessly through what is left of his life. Everything might burn to the ground, his soul in tatters, but there was always _Rey_. The only good thing he remembers growing up. Small and skinny and never ever afraid of him.

“Come with us, Miss. We’ll just get some paperwork together…”

They leave then and Ben slumps back against his pillows. It’s warm here. Warm and dry and he feels…well, if not content, at least _okay_ for the moment. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

 _He’s going home with Rey_. 

* * *

 

She’s still not quite sure how this happened. But she’s just helped _Ben Solo_ stagger his way into her apartment ( _thank God for elevators_ ) and into her guest bedroom. Not exactly the way she expected to get a man into her apartment for the first time, but there he is. Too tall, too broad, spread out over the full size bed like some sort of great gothic creature. The black of his clothing just makes the pallor of his skin even more prominent.

He was always pale, always just a bit too tall. Gangly and awkward in his youth, he had shot up sometime around the age of 14 and even now Rey remembers how almost overnight he seemed to dwarf her.

He does so now even more. She’s not exactly short. Not exactly _tall_ either, but as she helped him stagger his way weakly into her bedroom, she couldn’t help but notice he’d grown another couple inches and had somehow gotten _broad_. She could feel the muscles bunching beneath her hands as he moved with her.

The nurses had told her they weren’t sure the last time he ate but even so there was just so _much_ of him. He had worked on that body. She’s sure there must be some weight loss during the time he was wandering. She can feel his ribs, just a little prominent, but there’s still a whipcord strength that was never there before.

And that just wasn’t _her_ Ben Solo. Not the one who confided in her that he had no friends. He had been a quiet, artistic child, more into reading and calligraphy than sports. She still giggles over the school’s attempts to get the tall, awkward boy into basketball. He had the height, certainly. Over six feet tall and built like a beanpole at the time, he was an easy mark for the coach. But his interests were quieter. He hadn’t lasted long, stumbling in his first game and breaking his too-long nose.

But now he shows evidence of hard work and she wonders what happened to the sensitive boy she was once half in love with.

She stands over him after tucking him into her bed. She’s never noticed just how _small_ the room is. But now with him taking up over half of the bed, the room just seems a fraction of the size it usually does. “What am I going to do with you?” she murmurs before finally leaving him to sleep off whatever he needs to.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of voices.

No, not _voices_.

One voice.

_Rey…_

She’s carrying on one half of a conversation.

He tries to focus on the words.

But they’re still a half blur in his head. He hears his name. A few other words he manages to grasp and hold onto. _Childhood…friend…clothes_ …

He manages to crawl his way to a sitting position. He hasn’t felt this weak in…well, in a very long time. He doesn’t want to think on it, just wants to sink back into oblivion. It’s easier there. No pain. No anger. No harsh words and _you need help_ and _I could have loved you if…_

In the dark there is comfort.

It soothes him like nothing else does.

But he fights it. Fights for something he can’t even understand. Fights with everything he possibly can. _One foot in front of the other. Endless tracks in the sand.  Keep going, my boy…keep going…_

“Ben?”

Rey’s voice is worried and he realizes he’s on the _ground_.

_How did I get here?_

“Rey?” he manages to croak out and he’s sure that his cheeks must be red. Worse, his _ears_ are probably bright red. The tips of the gigantic things that tend to stick out between the strands of his hair no matter how much he tries to carefully brush it over them.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re so far _up_ there,” he mutters and reaches out a hand toward her.

She makes a little noise in the back of her throat. “The nurse said you should rest.”

“I _am_ resting.” The words are grumbled and he’s surprised to hear her laugh. It’s a good sound…a _wonderful_ sound. He doesn’t hear laughter enough and he certainly doesn’t hear laughter like _that_.

“I don’t think…”

“You’re really far up there, you know.” He’s pretty sure the words come out succinct, but the soft look on her face as she watches him makes him wonder if she even understood him.

 _Do_ you _even understand you?_ The answer was uncomfortably close to _no_.

She squats down then. “Come on, big guy, let’s get you back to bed.”

“Well, if you…” And he can’t quite finish that thought. He can feel his cheeks flare red. He always did blush too easily. But there are things there he doesn’t want to think of. This is _Rey_. She’s a child, just a baby. That annoying kid that used to follow him around with adoration in her big hazel eyes. He had felt protective of her, sure. But she was just a scrawny kid.

 _She’s not a kid anymore_ …

He doesn’t need to be reminded of such things. These are things that _cannot_ happen. Not just because it’s Rey, but because…

_You’re a failure, Ben._

_You need help, Ben,_

_I’ve set up an appointment at the counseling center, Ben. I suggest you take it._

Because _everything_.

“Hey.”

He glances up at her and he’s almost sure that there’s a halo around her head, though it might just be a combination of the light and the medication that’s still coursing through his system after his stay at the hospital.

She looks like she’s going to say something and so he just shakes his head, and crawls back into the bed with her help. He pulls the covers up over his head, curling deep into them, burying himself in their dark comfort.

 _Hello darkness, my old friend_ …

He’d laugh at the old lyrics if he could. But instead he finds himself sucked back down into that oblivion he’s been enjoying so much.

* * *

He barely gets out of bed over the next few days. She offers him food. He refuses. She manages to get him to eat exactly two popsicles and drink a few glasses of orange juice. Everything else he refuses, curling in on himself and staring at the wall of her bedroom.

Once she actually does manage to get him out of bed and into the living room. She likes to pretend that’s some sort of triumph, but she knows it isn’t. Even there he’s listless, staring off into space and when she tries to ask him what’s going on, why he’s here with her after all those years, he snarls at her and retreats.

She learns quickly not to ask him anything, so instead does what Rey does best. Offer silent support. And food. Comfort food, specifically. There’s one thing Rey learned in the foster homes she had found herself in…food is _the_ most important thing in the world. It can win wars, she’s sure of it. Just offer the villain the best of your food and he’ll come around.

Not that Ben is a villain.

But she can cast him in that role for now. He certainly wears enough black and acts angry and tortured enough to be the darkest of the villains she always seems to like in the stories she reads. He might be a bit too _pretty_ for it, really, what with all that thick black hair and those plush red lips and pale skin.

She tries not to giggle as her mind automatically casts him as Snow White.

“What are you laughing at?”

Her head whips up as she turns to face him. It’s the first time she’s seen him voluntarily get out of bed and leave the room unless he was heading to the bathroom. She’s almost afraid to say anything for fear she’ll scare him off. But that wouldn’t be the _Rey_ way and so she opens her big fat mouth anyway. “That you’re far more Snow White than Evil Queen.”

He’s silent for a moment and then she’s surprised to see the corner of those lips quirk up. Just a bit. It’s not much. But it’s a start. She smiles at him, bright and broad, and she knows she must look ridiculous.

_Come on Ben…_

“That’s…” He shakes his head slightly and he blinks once or twice as he stares at her. “That’s…uh…not something I’ve ever heard before.” He wanders off with those words and Rey bursts out into laughter.

Somehow that whole exchange went better than she expected it to.

* * *

He dreams that night of being chased by the Evil Queen, a weird sort of hybrid cartoon/reality dream that he’s never had before. The trees are real, certainly. And he’s pretty sure he is. But _she_ is not. At least not at first.

Cartoonish features, overdone makeup and that perpetual surprised scowl he remembers from his childhood.

Morphing into something, into _someone_ else.

His mother… _Take the apple dear, it’ll be good for you…_

His father, who looks simply terrible in the outfit and he’d laugh if he could, but his father is screaming obscenities at him. _You were never fucking good enough…never the child I fucking wanted…fuck you, Ben…fuck you._

And then… _her_ …and her face is sweet at first. Just as he remembered it the first time he saw it at an office Christmas party. Eyes that crinkled just a little at the corners, a light touch on his hand, his cheek. That face stretches, morphs into something he’s never seen before. Her eyes blaze as she shouts. No longer just disappointment but anger, hate. Had it always been that way? _You need help, Ben. You need to see someone, Ben._ Always those same words, scurrying around in his mind like ants. _You’re not good enough, you could never be good enough, you’re so fucked up Ben. Someone should put you out of your misery, you worthless piece of shit…_

There’s a knife.

He doesn’t remember that from his real life, but he can see it now. Moonlight glinting off the blade as it’s raised above him.

He can’t fight back.

He never could.

He doesn’t know _how._

He tries to raise his hands over his head to protect himself, but there’s nowhere to go…

* * *

She wakes up to a _scream_.

She’s out of bed and staggering to the door before she even has any idea of what’s going on, what she’s doing.

Out the door, down the hall. It takes her a moment to realize that the scream came from _Ben_.

He’s been there a grand total of eight days and she’s still not used to his silent presence in her life. They’ve barely spoken. A few words here and there, usually her trying to get him to eat something and his refusing. He spends most of his time holed up in the room she’s started thinking of as “his.”

She hopes that sometime he’ll let her know _why_. They told her he was carrying a piece of paper with her name on it. Nothing else. Why _her_ after all this time?

His name is out of her mouth before she even has the door fully open. She can see him there in the dark, twisted in the sheets, hair plastered to the sides of his face. She knows he’d hate that, hate her seeing his ears sticking out from his damp hair but she doesn’t stop to think about that, just rushes forward and kneels at his side.

“Ben?” She reaches out to touch him and he comes awake with a gasp, his arm flailing out and coming close to punching her in the mouth.

“ _Rey_.” Her name almost sounds like a prayer as he turns toward her. His eyes are huge in the little bit of moonlight that filters through the half open window. “Are you ok? I didn’t…”

“I’m fine.” She offers up a small smile. “You missed.”

She watches as he takes a deep breath, then another.

“What is this?” she finally asks, reaching out to lightly touch his hand. It’s still pressed into a tight fist and he clenches his jaw, eyes moving away from her. They don’t quite settle on anything for a moment, flitting around the room before turning to meet hers as she wraps her smaller hand around his fist.

“Nothing.” The word is tight, spoken through clenched teeth.

She shakes her head, knowing she has to tread carefully. She speaks softly, but there’s a firmness to the words. “This isn’t nothing.”

“It was just a nightmare,” he mutters. “That’s all.”

“Ben…”

“ _Rey_.” Her name comes out on a growl and she sighs. _He’s never going to open up to you_. Sometimes she wants to scream at him, grab his hair, force him to just _talk to her already_. She was the one he was looking for when they found him. But he won’t talk to her, won’t tell her what’s going on.

“Fine.” She stands and starts to turn away. “If you don’t want to…”

She’s stopped by his hand on her arm and shifts to look back over her shoulder at him. “Wait…” There’s a darkness behind the word, a small catch at the end of it. “Stay...” There’s that catch again, as if the words are being forced out of him without his express consent.

She starts to pull away again. “You can’t just…”

“Please?” And there it is, the breaking point, that small upward curl of his voice. Half desperation, half childlike plea. She finds she can’t leave him there like that, as he curls into himself and his eyes refuse to meet hers even in the relative safety of the darkened room.

She takes one moment longer before nodding. He reaches out and she’s surprised at the warm feeling that envelops her as he takes her much smaller hand in his. As he slides over, she comes to join him on the bed, sitting propped up against the headboard. She doesn’t dare lay down. She’s not even sure what this is, this weird fluttery feeling somewhere deep inside her. But she knows it’s not something that can be explored. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He drifts off next to her still holding her hand in his. It’s not a comfortable sleep, she realizes, watching the way his brows draw low over his eyes, the tension in his jaw. And so she does the only thing she can think of. She reaches out and draws her fingers through his dark hair, brushing it back from his face, her hand lightly massaging his scalp. It had helped her, a long time ago when she had her one and only foster home where someone cared about her. She had been young, but still, all these years later she remembers just how soothing it is.

And it seems to work. Ben settles, the tension eases.

She falls asleep with her hand still in his hair. 

* * *

 

It was that night that changed everything, he realizes later. He wakes the next morning and feels _something_ pressed against his back, draped across his waist. Disoriented, he just barely opens his eyes. It’s still dark in the room, though he can see a sliver of sunlight coming through the crack in the curtains that he’s tried to get to close properly. Threadbare things in a threadbare apartment.

But for now it’s home.

If he has his way, it will be for a long time to come. He can’t imagine going anywhere else. He _has_ nowhere else to go and Rey, his precious Rey whose life he disappeared from so long ago, she hasn’t changed a bit. She still has the biggest heart of anyone he’s ever met. He knows how he must look to her. Pathetic, just barely human at this point.

Worthless.

 _You’re so messed up, Ben_.

He shakes himself at the familiar voice, trying to push it away. His life is in tatters, the world crashing down around his head in a most spectacular way. He had finally… _finally_ …felt that he had gotten his feet under him. But no…life couldn’t be quite _that_ good.

And it leads back here, back to _Rey_.

He realizes as his brain starts to really wake up that the _thing_ pressed to his back is _Rey_. And the weight around his waist is her arm. He only vaguely recalls the nightmare. It’s just this hazy _thing_ in the back of his mind now. But he remembers her coming to him, remembers her staying with him as he drifted off.  _That_ is certain in his mind, crystal clear as if he had watched the movie a thousand times. He almost remembers her hand in his hair.

_When was the last time anyone had been so tender with you?_

It certainly wasn’t warranted, not here. He’s crashed her life, disrupted it. But she shows him nothing but kindness.

He certainly had received no tenderness from the likes of Snoke who drove him hard and punished him severely for any transgressions, perceived or real. He had worked for him for far too many years and even now, he’s sure he’s trying to find him, hunt him down, bring him back into the fold.

He certainly had received none from…well, he’d rather not think about the reason he’s even here in the first place. It makes his mind go fuzzy and everything around him becomes unfocused, makes him want to beg for some sort of relief.  He’s contemplated medicating it out of his mind for the first time in his life. He’s not the sort of guy to do drugs, barely touches alcohol. But in those first days, he used some of the pain medication he still had for his back to knock himself out for hours, even days at a time. Those first couple weeks were a blur.

And then he started walking.

And here he was.

He still doesn’t know _how_ he ended up here, how she came to him, how they found _her_ of all people.

He’s afraid to ask.

He manages to extricate himself from her, though she mumbles a few incoherent words in her sleep as she rolls over. It almost makes him smile… _almost_. Because he’s heard the _ding_ from his phone and he knows what that means. No one contacts Ben Solo. His mother had given up a long time ago. His friends had all but disappeared.

Or maybe _he_ had disappeared.

He doesn’t know anymore. Not really. He thought they just didn’t want to be around him, that he was somehow unworthy of them. He’d never had close friends, not really. But then he’d found _her_ and those other friendships hadn’t seemed to matter.

_You’ve got me Ben._

_You don’t need them._

_I don’t really like them much._

_Why don’t we go out tonight? Just the two of us? We don’t need them…_

And he had listened, making excuses and believing in her, in what they had. _You’re such a mess Ben._

He finds his phone on a table in Rey’s living room. Sure enough it’s exactly who he thinks it is.

_Ben why dont u answer me_

She hasn’t written in days, stopped answering his texts and _now_ she wants to know where he is? He almost tosses the phone down when he feels a presence next to him.

“Who’s that?”

He tries to hide the phone but it’s too late. “No one,” he says, the words rushing out before he can stop them.

“I don’t think she’s no one,” Rey says and her voice is quiet, but resolute. “Ben, can we talk about this? About why you’re here?”

He sighs, tucking the phone into his side as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I…” He’s not sure what to say, how to admit he’s not sure _why_ he’s here. Except that it feels right. It was the only place he could imagine going.

“Can we talk about who that is?”

He walks away from her then. He doesn’t know what else to do.

* * *

The next couple weeks pass quickly. Ben is quiet, occasionally writing to someone on his phone. He says nothing about who it is, but she knows. She saw the name and she can put two and two together. Every time he finishes the increasingly shorter conversations with whoever she is, he’s sullen, angry.

He crawls off to the room she’s decided is _his_ and when he comes out later his eyes are red-rimmed and any sort of light has gone out. Sometimes it takes hours for him to come out of it. Sometimes he never does, sitting almost catatonic on her couch before going back to bed.

She joins him there most nights. Nightmares plague him. Nightmares he won’t talk about the next day. Nightmares that sometimes make him lash out at her when she tries to help.

But he accepts her in the bed with him. Accepts her curling around him through the night. Sometimes he turns in his sleep and she wakes up pressed against his chest with his arms around her. She remembers how she once thought about how she might like that, about being a part of his life, being _with_ him. And here they are, now living in some strange version of domestic…well, she won’t call it bliss. Domestic _something_.

But there’s something holding him back from more than they have.

 _Her_.

She doesn’t know who she is, but she can extrapolate from the small bit she’s been given. An ex of sorts, she still seems to hold some sort of sway over him, taking him low every time she writes or calls.

“Her name is Maria,” he says out of nowhere one afternoon while they’re sitting at the kitchen table. He’s been there for nearly an hour, quiet, his eyes focused anywhere but on her. His voice surprises her and she almost drops the cup she’s holding.

She sits down opposite and waits.

“She was perfect,” he goes on to say and she feels the knife twist in her gut just a little. “I thought we were soulmates.” The last is said with a small huffing noise, belief and disbelief all rolled up together. “I met her at work. She was new and no one else seemed interested in getting to know her. She…was interesting. Vivacious, witty. But maybe even more than that, she seemed to like _me_.” He meets her eyes then and there’s a strange sort of earnestness there.

“Ben…”

“No one likes me, Rey. Not since…” His voice trails off there and one hand waves in the air.

“Since?”

He shakes his head. “ _Nevermind_.” He starts to get up but she reaches out a hand and puts it over his. It stills him, that small movement, and he sits back down.

“But then…I don’t know. Sometimes I still think maybe she was supposed to be the one.” Even he scoffs at that. “Yeah I know, listen to me. Ben Solo, romantic. But I thought she was special. And she thought _I_ was special. Or at least…I thought she did.”

She waits for him to continue but he’s turned inward again. “What happened?”

“I wish I knew.” And there’s bitterness there. “We’d make plans and she’d just…disappear. No calls, no texts. When I’d be angry later, she’d act like somehow I was the bad one. I wasn’t supposed to be mad at her, I should have nothing to be mad about. Isn’t her life important too?” The hand that hers isn’t covering forms into a fist and hits the table. The sound makes her jump back a bit. “Sorry,” he mumbles and falls silent.

His phone dings.

He glances down at it and she sees the way his eyes go blank. His hand hovers over it for a moment and Rey is struck by just how _huge_ those hands really are. She doesn’t remember noticing that when she was younger. But his hands are massive, with long broad fingers, and she tries very hard not to think of just what he might be able to do with them.

“It’s her,” he finally says and his voice is distant. He almost takes the phone in hand before Rey squeezes the hand she’s still holding onto.

“Ben…”

His eyes meet hers for just a moment, then slide away. “I need to take this.”

She whispers his name again and he stops to look at her, the phone ringing into the silence. “Ben, you’re holding on. Let go.” She reaches out squeezes his hand, maybe a bit harder than she intended. “For yourself, if no one else.”

He stares at her for a moment and then he’s gone, disappearing into the other room without saying another word. She lays her head on the table. There’s a shroud of sadness that hangs on his shoulders like a cloak. And sometimes…more and more…she wishes she could push it off and bring him back to the light.

* * *

_Maybe someday, if you get your shit together…_

_But right now I need something else…someone else…_

_Yes he’s the one I met in that class._

_Ben…you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?_

_Ben?...._

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

_You said we’d be still be friends. I want to be…_

“No. I can’t. I need time.” He hangs up the phone before she can say anything else, before he can go back on his words.

She’s seeing someone else.

And his heart just shattered in a thousand different ways.

He’s not sure he can put it back together.

* * *

There are hints there, Rey realizes. Hints that something wasn’t right with the relationship he’s apparently just come out of.  Hints in the nightmares that still plague him.

She still spends most nights in the bed with him. Just holding him, letting him hold her. They never talk about it and one of them always slips out in the morning before it can get awkward. Or…more awkward than it already is, really.

It’s late one night when he rolls over and pulls her in close to him. Her head is pressed against his chest and she can feel it raise and lower beneath her cheek, can hear the steadiness of his heartbeat.

“Rey?” His voice is quiet and for a moment she’s not sure he actually spoke. But she hears the vibration of his voice deep in his chest, feels the air across her head as he speaks.

“Yeah?” she finally says and he squeezes her just a little bit harder.

“I told her today I can’t be friends with her anymore.” The words fall heavily into the darkness of the room.

Rey pushes back from him, just enough to put a little room between them, and looks up, meets his eyes. They’re _close_ here. She almost can’t focus on them from the distance they’re at.

“You did?”

“You were right,” he says with a sigh. Her eyes shift from the strange earnestness in his eyes to his lips as he speaks. “I need to let the past die. I need to let her go.” His hands moves up her back, down again, touch her hips lightly. The movement is unintentionally erotic, she’s sure of it. He seems…anxious, almost. As if he’s looking for some sort of absolution from her.

_Why me?_

She still has no answer to that question. “Good.” She takes a deep breath. Another. “You did the right thing.”

“Do you really think so?” The words are quiet, his voice strangely small.

“Yes.” Her eyes still keep flitting down to his mouth. _This is not the time, Rey._ But then she notices that his eyes have moved too and she offers a small half smile. His forehead presses against hers but he goes no further. She senses that he doesn’t dare, that the next move is hers.

He’s waiting for her.

She can move away and they’ll settle back into the roles they’ve been in. Holding each other close, acknowledging a friendship that goes perhaps a bit deeper than either expected, acknowledging that once they might have been something to each other if life hadn’t torn them apart.

Or she can move closer, touch her lips to his and see where this thing carries them.

She knows it’s not the time.

It _can’t_ be.

He’s moving on from his ex, willing to let the past go. But there are scars there. She sees it in the way his shoulders hunch forward just a bit, the way he hides out in his room when things get too intense. But still, there’s this… _thing_ …there. Something that could be wonderful.

Or could crash and burn.

She leans forward and does what could either be the stupidest thing she’s ever done…or the best. She touches her lips to his. Lightly, just a soft brush of her lips against his. She’s surprised at their softness as he leans forward a little bit and captures hers when she attempts to retreat.

He sighs into her mouth and she presses her tongue against the seam of his lips. Groaning, he lets her tongue slide against his as his hands gather her closer.  Hers tangle in his hair and that she _knew_ was soft, long strands of dark hair sliding through her fingers. That’s different from the last time she saw him. His hair was shorter then, his rather prominent ears sticking out from underneath a sort of bowl cut. Now it’s the perfect length for his angular face and she loves the feel of it in her fingers.

When one of her hands wanders underneath his shirt, brushing against the smooth muscles of his abdomen, he backs off with a small gasp. Her hand stays there for a moment more, the heat of him almost unbearable.

“I…” he starts to say and she realizes that this is _all wrong_. They shouldn’t be doing this. He’s in love with someone else.

 _But he kissed you_ …“I’m sorry.”

“No don’t. Don’t apologize. I wanted it too.” The last is said quietly, an admission that seems to be wrenched out of him.

“Oh,” is all she can think of in that moment.

He offers a small laugh and pulls her close to him. She’s not sure what to say, what to think. He wants it, but _God_ , they shouldn’t. It’s not the right time.

“I’ve never…” He pauses there and she waits for him to go on.

He says nothing further.

She pushes back from him again and looks up to meet his eyes. Or…she tries to at least. He’s looking everywhere but at her and she’s almost sure his cheeks are flushed, but it’s hard to tell in the dim moonlight filtering into the room from outside.

“You never…” And then she realizes what he’s trying to say. “What? No…but…”

“There are things I need to tell you about that relationship,” he mutters.

“I’m so confused,” she admits. He’s never…he was in a relationship and somehow Ben Solo, some seven years her senior, nearly 30, is still a virgin. She’s _not_ , though the handful of times she did such a thing with her one ex were not exactly memorable.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says quickly.

“Can we just…can we do more of that? Without…more? Right now?” He sounds so lost and it makes her heart hurt.

“Of course.” And he leans down to kiss her again. They kiss that night until they’re almost drifting off, just a lazy meeting of lips and tongue, hands in hair or gently caressing the curve of a back. They fall asleep still wrapped up in each other.

* * *

It’s been a few weeks since he let her go. He won’t lie to anyone and pretend he doesn’t sometimes check his phone just to see if she wrote anyway. She does the beginning of the second week and he feels almost numb.

He does something he never thought he’d do though.

He takes it to Rey. And she gently pries the phone out of his hand and deletes the message for him. When she hands the phone back to him she tells him she’s proud of him and leans up to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

She’s so centered, so full of light, everything he isn’t. Calm and collected and sure of her place in the world. It’s a light he’s drawn to and slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to create a new life for himself, throwing off the shackles of what came before.

* * *

He’s been living with her for over three months and she’s still not sure exactly what they are. It’s been at least two months since he’s heard from his ex and he’s healing. Slowly, but there’s progress every day. He still only talks about it in fragments, still has a hard time processing what exactly happened. He’s seeing a counselor, and she tosses around words like _abuse_ and _gaslighting_ and Rey is fairly certain he’s starting to see the truth of that relationship.

She’s not sure what _they_ are just yet. They curl up together every night, sometimes kissing and gently exploring a little bit of the bond they seem to have forged. They never go too far. He’s hasn’t been ready for anything more and Rey is letting him take things at his pace. She’s patient. She can wait until he’s put himself back together.

He smiles sometimes. And every one makes her heart flip over just a tiny bit.

She’s never quite forgotten the crush she had on him when she was a teenager. And as they lay in bed each night, curled around each other, she feels _content_. Maybe for the first time in her life.

It’s one of those nights when he reaches out to her and tips her head up to look at him. She knows what’s coming next, but he surprises her by smoothing the hair back from her face and meeting her eyes instead of delving in for another kiss. “Ben?” she whispers. He looks so… _serious_. He’s always been a little too serious, a little too inside his own head. But there in the dark, there’s something else.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls her tight against him, rests his chin on her hair. She can feel the sigh that goes through his body.

“Ben? Can I ask a question?” She realizes she sounds timid at that moment but she knows that he doesn’t always react all that well to probing questions. He either shuts down or gets angry and storms off. The few times he’s managed to answer anything really personal, he did so in as few words as possible.

“Ok,” he says at last and she releases the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Why me?” It’s really the one question that’s been weighing on her mind since the hospital first called. They had been friends, once. She had been a little bit in love with him, once. But the years between then and now were many and she barely understands his _remembering_ her, much less seeking her out in when he was in his lowest moments.

“I don’t…” he starts to stay and she feels him squeeze her a little more tightly to him. He’s able to wrap around her like there’s nothing to her. “That’s a lie.” She’s surprised to hear a bit of humor in the tone of his voice. “I do know. It’s just…it won’t make _sense_ really.”

She pushes back from him to look in his eyes, her hand coming up to cup his face, brush the hair back that always hangs down along the side of his angular face. “Try me?”

“You were the only bright spot in my life. The only one who seemed to _care_ all those years ago.”

“Your parents…”

“We’ll get to them eventually,” he cuts her off with. “Not even them. Not really at least. They didn’t understand me. And I don’t know if _you_ did. But it didn’t matter. You _cared_. You came outside when you saw me brooding on that old swing set and even when I was at my worst, cursing at you and telling you to get the hell out of my life, _you didn’t_. God, you’re _tenacious_ Rey and you can’t possibly know how much that meant to me. When you moved…” He lets out a shaky breath. “God I sound like a pervert don’t I? You were all of 14 when I left. No…I didn’t see you _that_ way. Not then. You were almost more a kid sister and then they moved you to a new foster home and I went to college and that was that. I’d left the only bit of sunshine my life had. The one person who actually gave a damn.”

He trails off there and Rey is reeling. “I…” she tries to say.

He turns his head away from her. “It’s a lot. Damn, I’m sorry. I should have just left it at _I don’t know_.” She can hear a bit of self-deprecating tone to the words.

“No Ben, don’t.” She pulls his head back to her, forces him to meet her eyes. “It’s a lot.” He starts to pull away and she grips him harder. “But it’s not _too much_. You were really the only bright spot in my life, too. My foster family was just one more family in a series of terrible ones who took me in. But you actually _listened_ to me. That meant a lot to me, _too_.” She trails off for a moment and then decides to forge ahead. If they’re going to reveal everything… “And trust me, I did _not_ see you as a brother.” She offers up a soft smile.

“No?”

“Definitely not.” She reaches down and affectionately shoves at his shoulder. “I was half in love with you, you know.”

His eyebrows rise just a little. “You were?”

“God, I had _such_ a crush on you. You were this tall handsome young man who gave a geeky teenager with dirt on her face and scrapes on her knees more than the time of day. Of course I was half in love with you.” She should be embarrassed by the confession but somehow she just wasn’t. This was _Ben_. They had shared some of their darkest secrets and worst moments when they were younger. And he came to her when his life was in tatters, all these years later.

One of his hands comes up and touches her cheek, lightly touches her lips. She watches him take a deep breath, sees the way his jaw clenches and his lips press together for a moment before he finally speaks again. “And now?”

“Now…” She hasn’t really examined how she feels about him, not really. Oh, it’s probably always there underneath the surface, just waiting for her to scratch at it and reveal the truth. “Probably a bit more than half,” she admits.

He smiles at that. “Me too.” He leans forward to kiss her again. And this one…oh, this one. There’s something _more_ there, like he’s unleashed all his emotions and allowed them to flow out of him to her. She feels like she can almost reach into his mind and pluck his thoughts from within the tangled threads hiding there.

When he pulls back after far too short of a time, he’s smiling. A real smile. Not a half-smile, not a smirk. He looks… _happy_ , she realizes. Happy and content, like this is where he wants to stay. “Rey,” he says and she’s surprised by the sound of her name. “I want to…”

He lets it hang there and it takes her a moment to realize what he means. “Oh.” She feels dumb for that being her response so follows it up with “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Are you sure? That’s is kind of a big deal.” Not just for him, when she thinks about it. It would be his first time, but it’s not far from _her_ first time and this is _Ben_. He’s not some random one-night stand or a boyfriend she wasn’t really all that interested in. He’s _Ben_ and this is something incredibly special.

“Yes. Really. I’m sure.” And then he’s kissing her again and _this_ is where she realizes she’s meant to be. In his arms, with _him_.

It’s a strange thing, really, making love with someone you actually care about for the first time. It’s awkward. They bump foreheads once, and he accidentally bites down too hard on her lower lip when the kiss turns from a quiet meeting of mouths to passion.

He’s nothing if not enthusiastic. He struggles with her bra when he tries to take it off and he laughs, because really what else does one expect? She pulls it off herself and wants to hide at the look on his face as she bares herself to him. She can feel the blush that starts on her cheeks go right down her chest.

But then he looks up at her and she can see that his cheeks are flushed too and even the tips of his ears have turned red and that might be the most adorable thing she’s ever seen. So she leans forward and brushes his hair away from one of them and pulls the earlobe into her mouth, lightly nipping at it before laving it with her tongue.

“God I’ve always hated those ears,” he mutters. “But now I think I might just love them.”

“I’ve always loved your ears.” She laughs and continues her ministrations. “They’re adorable.”

He laughs at that and lets her pull his shirt off. She’s still in awe of his body, of the muscles that are beneath all that pale skin. He’s covered in moles and freckles and she wants to trace every single one with her tongue, but she’s afraid that might be too much for him. So instead she runs her hands across his chest, down his abdomen. His skin is smooth and soft over all that hard muscle and she finds she loves his body. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me how you got this body.” And she gives him no time to respond, leaning down to take teeth and tongue to the same places her hand had just traced.

He can’t answer and she’s fine with that. He lets her touch him, caress him, his hands in her hair, tracing across her shoulders, reaching down to touch one of her breasts.

“I want to touch you,” he finally says and she lets him, laying back to let him explore her at his leisure. His first touch is too light and she finds it ticklish. He’s amused by that. He grasps her breast just a little too firmly and turns red when she corrects him. But he’s a quick study and when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth she realizes he _really_ _really_ is a quick study because it’s lovely and amazing and far surpasses any of her teenage fantasies about what this would be like with him.

“Do you like that?” against her.

She laughs. She can’t help it. “As if you can’t tell.”

He’s looking up at her and there’s that serious look again. He doesn’t know. Not really. He has so little experience that he’s not even sure how to tell. Well, she’s sure there’s _one_ thing he can’t miss and so she unzips her pants and pushes them down, takes one of his overly large hands in her much smaller one and guides one finger underneath her underwear to where even _she_ can feel how wet she is for him.

His resulting gasp is almost music to ears. “For me?” he whispers and slides his finger around in the wetness he finds there, finally dipping into her up to his second knuckle. She has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way his eyes almost roll back in his head. “God, Rey,” he mutters and she reaches down to pull her underwear completely off.

He’s back at it as soon as they’re gone, spreading her legs apart and touching her reverently, as if he can’t even believe she’s here, that this is happening. He’s completely focused on the task, altering the way he moves his fingers as they slide over and through her. He’s listening, she realizes, when she lets out a small gasp and he continues to do what he was doing that caused it.

Attentive.

She likes this.

Then he stops and looks up at her. There’s a strange glint in his eyes. “May I?” he asks. And what she can see of his face in the dim light is bright red. He clears his throat, glances down, and as she realizes what he means she’s sure that _she_ is just as red.

“You don’t have to.”

“I saw it once, in a porno.” He flinches and she almost laughs. “Sorry I shouldn’t admit that. Old high school friend got ahold of one,” he mutters. “It’s just…I always wanted to.”

“No one ever has,” she admits. She may be the more sexually experienced here, but not in this.

“Oh?” She’s surprised to hear just a tiny bit of smugness enter his voice. She allows him to spread her legs a little further and watches as he leans forward. His nose presses up against her clit and she tries not to let out the moan that is trying very hard to work its way out of her.

And then he licks her.

And it’s a glorious thing.

It’s clear as he dives in that he has no idea what he’s doing but it doesn’t matter because it’s _so lovely_. He laps at her and at first it’s a little too hard, then a little too soft. She tries to direct him but ultimately decides that she doesn’t want to curb his enthusiasm. She’s not even sure _what_ she likes this way, really. It’s certainly making her insides turn to jelly despite his lack of finesse.

She lets out a gasp as he tongues her clit especially hard and he seems to recognize that was _something_. He wraps his lips around it and _God_ those lips are made for this, made for falling from grace, for sin. If anything was ever perfectly made for such a thing, his lips were it. He sucks and touches his tongue to it again and the whole world explodes around her. She can’t stop the sounds she’s making, can’t stop wrapping her fingers in his hair, tugging at the messy locks.

She finally has to push him away because it’s too intense. He looks almost hurt as she comes down from her high and looks down at him, still perched between her spread legs. “Too much,” she murmurs.

“Did you…” he starts to say and she lets out a breathy sigh.

“Yes.”

The smile on his face may be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “I did that?”

“Yes. Now get up here.” She yanks almost ineffectually at his arm. One does not move Ben Solo without Ben wanting to move. He’s like a tree, massive and steadfast. And so he moves and comes up over her. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and leans down, hesitates. It’s her turn to smile at him. A little shy, really. She knows what he’s thinking. “You can kiss me.”

“Even after…”

“Yes.” And he does, leaning town to lightly touch his lips to hers. It’s a soft, languid kiss. She feels almost boneless beneath him. But she knows they’re not done.

When she reaches down to the button on his pants, he pulls away. “Are you sure?”

“God I love you,” she murmurs.

“What?”

And she realizes she meant it. She loves everything about him, from his ridiculously big ears, to his soft brown eyes, to his always asking for her consent. She’s never grown out of her love for him. It’s just gotten bigger.

“I mean it.”

He leans down then and kisses her, hard, passionate. “I love you too. I don’t think I ever knew what love was until you.”

They kiss until they have to tear their mouths apart to breathe. She makes quick work of his pants and he pushes his underwear down, freeing himself. She reaches out to grasp him and her eyes flick up to his.

“Ok?” His voice cracks on the second syllable.

“It…you’re a bit bigger than I expected.” Not that she’s entirely _thought_ about such things…well, not often at least. Ok, she might have _wondered_ , once long ago…or maybe it was last week. But it wasn’t her _focus_ , really. Her hand is wrapped around him now and her fingers barely touch. He’s thick, a little longer than what one might consider average.

It half scares her.

And half excites her.

She guides him to her.

“Don’t we need…”

She leans up to kiss him. “No, I’m on the pill.”

He lets out a shaky breath and presses his forehead against hers, finally nodding.

“Just go slow,” she whispers.

And then he presses forward. Slowly. Just as she asks. She can feel herself stretch around him and it’s ok. It doesn’t hurt. She’s so slick he slides in easily despite how large he is. She looks up at him and realizes he’s completely focused on her, his eyes meeting hers. They widen as he goes deeper and he curses as he finally slides in all the way.

“Oh, fuck…Rey.” He stays still then, doesn’t move. They’re both adjusting. “God this is amazing. You feel amazing.” He leans down to kiss her. “ _You_ are amazing,” he says against her lips.

She laughs as he starts to move and it’s not what she expects at all. There’s a joy there, a sort of buoyancy as she feels him within her. She wraps her legs around him and he reaches down to hold her hips. It’s over almost as soon as it’s begun as he loses any sort of rhythm and holds tight to her as he lets go. She expects that and so she lets him ride it out, whispering soft words in his ear.

She holds onto him as he comes down from it and then he’s peppering her face with small kisses and she laughs again, meeting his lips in his mad rush to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her lips. “That was…” he starts to say.

“I know,” she cuts him off with. He pulls out of her then and she feels a little bereft at the loss of contact. But then he’s rolling onto his back and pulling her with him, nestling her head on his chest. His breathing is still a little ragged and she can hear his heartbeat starting to slow down.

She closes her eyes as she snuggles into him. She’s almost drifting off when she hears him whisper against her ear. “Where do we go from here?”

She opens her eyes and looks up at him for a moment. “I don’t know…but I’d like to find out…together.”

He smiles and she curls back up. She’s almost sure she hears him whisper his love for her again as she lays there half asleep. He’s healing. Finally. Opening himself up to her and whatever the future may hold. She knows that no matter what happens, she’ll be there, at his side. Life brought them back together. She won’t let it tear them apart again.

**Author's Note:**

> I only noted after this whole thing that you mentioned something about abuse and GOD I hope that past abuse is ok because I didn't think about that until afterward, but it was the one thing that came to mind when I thought of someone being "emotionally wrecked." If you totally hate this or don't want to read this I will write you something else!


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